FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Downward Spiral

_November 28, 2023, sundown East of San Francisco _

** "Okay," Karla told the twins.** We're all being watched and it makes you nervous. I understand that." She knelt down besides a litter pan and picked up a box that was tucked away, filling the pan with fresh litter. She turned to a bag of old litter tied up in the corner then waved her hand at it. The bag disappeared. Karla rose to her feet then whistled. Kuda, the pigmy-sized fox, ran out from a hallway then rubbed up against her legs. "Now, guys, let's talk about options."

"We should split up," said Fox. "They can't kill us all if we're in three different directions."

Karla deadpanned at the young man. "Foxie, you're cute as hell and you've got a great ass kiddo, but you're not using your brain for anything, right now. Think about your statement. If we split up we'd all become vulnerable and have no help."

"But we don't know which one of us is being followed."

Topaz frowned. "But we'd need all of us to survive, and, even worse, it's going to take all of us to collect all the artifacts."

Fox settled back on a sofa and folded his arms. "No, it only takes one master-level thief to do the jobs Karla is proposing to us. I have a plan."

Topaz and Karla looked at one another. They glanced back at Fox and waited. He offered a smile then leaned back in his seat.

"It's simple, you two. Karla will stay out of sight and I'll go back to Falcon's lackey, Krys Monroe. I'll feign ignorance. I'll pretend I'm seeking her out because she was Fara's birthing coach and friend. I'll pretend like I have nowhere else to turn and need help. When Falcon enters the picture or if they try and take me back to one of the laboratories, Karla will come into play just as she did the day I met her."

Topaz Parker frowned. "And what about me?"

Fox smiled inwardly. "You're dad's pride and joy, Paz. You've passed the trials, you've solved the riddles, and you've aced the tests and smoked the old record. You should be the one to start collecting the other artifacts. The ones that are being held in publicly accessible places... museums, private collector vaults... easy stuff. Then come back here and look us up. Find us, find Reno Nevada... just... find _someone_that will put you on our trail."

Karla rubbed her chin for a moment. "If it's true that we're running out of time then this would be the best idea." She leaned down and picked Kuda up by the waist. He clamored up her arm and perched on her shoulder, with his tail draped down her back. "Fox can slow down Falcon and take whatever he already has. I can put a stop to Falcon if he shows himself. Topaz, you can start collecting and hiding the handful of artifacts that are already dancing in and out of the spotlight."

The girl sighed and ran her fingers back through her hair. "I suppose. I will need help, though. But I'll manage without a team for now. I just... I don't have powers like you two."

"You have a resourceful mind," Fox replied. "You have a killer instinct and you have great reflexes. Plus you're very in control of your emotions."

"And you aren't?"

"I'm detached a little, but you're in control all the way around. You know when it is appropriate to cry, when it's the proper time to be serious and you know when to let your guard down."

She eyed her brother for a moment then cracked a vague smile. "Around you; that's the only time I let down my guard. You don't judge me."

"That would be akin to judging myself and I'm not the self-loathing type. What will you need? Money?"

"Money can be traced," she said. "I'll be fine. I like doing things without leaving a trace. And you know what is traceable? Breaking into Falcon's mansion, and spending money."

Fox reached over and hugged his sister. "I'm sorry you got thrown into a cell and had to fight that freaky monster and saw Reno's brother killed. I'm glad you're okay. Look, do it your way, if you don't want to go sneaking into the bad guys' turf, or spending money publically then... don't."

Karla frowned. "You _should_take some money with you."

"I'll be fine." Topaz stood up, cast a gaze at Fox then walked to the sliding glass door. "Okay, how do I get off the boat?"

"No, no we should come up with a plan," said Fox. "You can't just jet off and expect to..."

"Fox, hush. We have a plan. You just told it to me. I need to get started."

"It's autumn out there, girl." Karla disappeared then reappeared across the room, adjacent to Topaz. "Stop being so stubborn. We're not kicking you out."

"I never thought you were," Topaz replied with a chuckle. "Karla, by all means, I am a rich girl and, at the same time, I am able to pass a survival test in the Himalayas. I spent three weeks on the streets of Russia, the last two of January and into the first week of February. I spent another three weeks in the Middle East, in the driest place on earth and masqueraded as a teenage boy to get by without attracting attention to myself. You're worried about me in my own hometown of San Francisco in the fall? That's a joke. I learned how not to treat money so that I'll be untraceable. I just thought I was safe at home and now I know better. I can do this. I'm fine. It's better if I get started now so I can follow up on some leads that I had on the backburner. How do I get to land?"

Karla glanced back at Fox, frowned, then said, "I'll gas up the inflatable dingy."

"Thank you, Karla. I'll take care of it. I'll scuttle it so it can't be traced back to you." Topaz opened the sliding glass door, stepped through and closed it behind herself.

"What the hell is her problem? She's suddenly in a rush to leave. Does she not like me or something?"

Fox sighed. "She doesn't want me going back to Aris Falcon's people. All those things she mentioned... I've never done any of them. Never had the chance to prepare for the family trials."

"She's in love with you."

Fox cringed. "Just between you and me, I rescued her from a very emotional and traumatic situation. I was there for her and made myself emotionally available to her. I'm a very unattached person at times but I've always been there for her. But the thought that she's in love withme doesn't add up. We did silly stuff when we were younger and I let her stay in my room for a number of years, growing up... but there's no romantic notion of love between us."

Karla eyed him then shook her head. "Christ sake... you're in love with her, too. Boy oh boy. I had no idea. I saw through her façade, but it wasn't until now that I saw through yours, too. I'd better send Lance to keep an eye on her."

"Lance?"

Karla chuckled and dropped onto the living room sofa with a huff of indignation. "That girl is going to need him to watch over her, even if she doesn't accept a dime of money."

"Who is he?"

"You know how the world lacks common sense on average?"

Fox nodded firmly. "That's the understatement of the millennium. Common sense is so rare it should be its own super power."

A smile touched Karla's lips. "Well, he has it in abundance. That is Lance's super power. Before everyone died and disappeared, Lance worked for the super natural community and acts... act_ed_ as a diplomat between several sects. He's done that job for about eighty-five years, now. He's pleasant, cordial, attractive and otherwise quite normal. He's wealthy, though. Not like your father, whose family has been stealing and dumping it all into the same piggy bank for ump-teen generations... but... Lance does have enough money to relax if he so chooses. That's part of his common sense. He invests in the right things, pulls his money at the right times, reinvests when he sees the right signs..."

"How can common sense and a good appreciation for money make him an asset?"

Karla shook her head with a chuckle. "Ever heard of Mensa?"

"No... wait. That's the smart people club, right?"

"Yes. The supernatural science community wished to find intelligent mortals with whom to study. I still have no idea why, nor do I know many of the details. At any rate, Lance suggested we set the stage to create a self-sustaining club for smart people that are motivated enough to demonstrate their intelligence for bragging rights, which would lead us right to them. After breathing the right words into the right people's head, Mensa was created halfway through the Second World War. When the science people wanted to narrow things down during the late 70's, they manipulated another group that eventually called themselves, the 'Triple Nine Society.' I'm not sure why it was necessary to find smart mortals but it doesn't matter. Lance is smart but I don't know if he's smart enough to be a part of that sort of community. Then a few years later, they wanted to find smarter mortals. So along comes the Prometheus Society and, for the crazy elite... there's the Mega Society."

"There are really that many smart people clubs?"

Karla shrugged. "Yeah. International Society for Philosophical Enquiry, One-in-a-Thousand Society, Six-Oh-Six Society, Intertel. There are more but only a handful of people care."

"So why do you seem to care?" asked Fox.

"Because I like to shag smart men, okay? Damn, Fox." She shook her head then said, "Lance isn't one of those people that can invent a nuclear-powered automobile out of a pocket full of Uranium and a high school metal shop, though. And if he is, he hides it well. The most impressive thing about Lance is he's good with math, and he has an incredible gift of common sense."

Fox eyed her for a minute. "How does someone become attractive, smart and have common sense? That's kind of... well, you know... impossible."

"He's old enough to work out the kinks, I guess. I don't know how old, but I do know that he's pretty old..." she trailed off in to a brief ramble about him. Fox tuned it out.

Fox glared. "You've fucked him."

Karla glared back. "Well duh."

"Good Lord. Okay, so you want him to watch over my sister. Fine. So what kind of flaws does this guy have?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why should I suddenly feel relieved that you're gunna have him watch over her? You've not married him so obviously there's a reason he's not 'perfect' right? "

Karla chuckled and shook her head. "Because I'd cheat on him. But in all seriousness, you're right. Nobody is perfect. He's not interested in long-term relationships, either. At least not for himself. He's a good lover but not good husband material. Fun, though. Needless to say, if she gets in trouble, he'll act responsibly."

"So how come I've never met him?"

Her eyes lowered briefly then lifted slowly. "Your daddy wanted to shield you and your sister from our kind because he didn't care for our drama."

"You never seduced my old man, did you?"

Karla lifted her right hand. "I assure you I've never even so much as put my palms on your father's body, not even for a handshake. But I slept with members of his team."

Fox walked to the glass panel facing the city. He watched as his sister lowered the dingy into the water with a frown. "One of the LeRue brothers? Also, I thought you were going to gas up the outboard for her?"

"I just remembered that it's already ready to go. She'll figure it out; if she doesn't, she'll come in and ask. Anyways, I dated one of the Le Rue brothers for a few weeks then I dated the other," she replied. "Those boys were polar opposites. One would think they weren't even related. They were even different sizes. But they were both the sweetest damn French boys under the sun."

"Too much information, Miss Howard."

"Are you really going to start that now? Just 'Karla.' Please. Anyhow, you can trust that your sister will not get herself killed. Lance has connections to important people, like Kalen and myself. People who are trust worthy... the way Donovan was before getting himself killed. We're all quite talented people when it comes to combat. No one will kill your sister; Lance will be watching."

"Will she know she's being watched?"

"No, Fox, he won't intervene no matter what. If she's short on cash or overwhelmed by emotions or if attackers surround her, he'll stay back unless he feels she is in genuine danger. We all know that Jon Conner Parker's kids can protect themselves."

"Then what's the point of watching her?"

Karla shook her head with a shrug. "Fox, hon, if a sniper had a bead on her, or if she was up against someone who cannot die from physical injury, or if she was about to become seriously wounded, then yes... Lance will intervene. But I doubt she'd even know he was there."

"Okay well... I just don't want her getting hurt. Do I ever get to meet these friends of yours?"

"It always surprises me how much you and Topaz differ from your daddy. Perhaps one day you can."

Rain caught their attention, starting up against the windows. "Dammit, Topaz is out in that mess. I wish you'd have just teleported her to the shore instead of going through all that crap with the little inflatable boat thing."

"It's what she wanted... that sensation of freedom to clear her head. She's upset about something, Fox. She might be upset about the kid who died in her arms. She needed to get out and be angry and the rain won't hurt anything." The rain continued to come down hard, killing all visibility of San Francisco in the distance. Karla folded her arms. "I wish she would have let me teleport her to the shore, too."

Fox ran his right hand back through his hair. "I'm glad you care about her, Karla."

"Yeah. I do. You both have a great ass, and you both would make great team players. I'm glad she talked you out of that silly notion of hanging out with Falcon and pretending to feign ignorance or whatever."

"Maybe, I don't know." Fox glanced at his pale reflection in the window and sighed. "Maybe you were right."

"About what? You having a great ass or that we shouldn't split up?"

Fox replied with a dull glare. After a brief pause, he cleared his throat and said, "Maybe I should stay here with you and be a team player. I'm sure we could accomplish a lot together. Plus, I still need to figure out how to use my new ability. It's easy enough to control but I don't know how to use it, or how to be efficient with it."

Karla smiled and approached him from behind. "That's the most sensible thing you've said all night, babe. Listen. Stay here and hold down the fort. Play Angry Birds on the iPad or something. I'm going to run a few errands and give Lance a heads up about Topaz." Her purse chimed. She picked it up from the coffee table and pulled out the phone then smiled. "Ohhhh yeah. My little pal just texted me. One second." She raced her thumbs over the screen then grinned at Fox. "Just sent a message to Reno. He's off to make a scene at Pages Lost. We want to see how connected Monroe is to the police. The more we know, the better we will know how to act and react."

She passed the small fox over to Fox. It climbed up his arm and settled on his shoulder, tail across the nape of his neck, draped down over his other shoulder. Karla held her hand out. Her handbag appeared in her left hand. She snapped her fingers then opened her right hand. An expensive brand name of cologne appeared in her hand. She sniffed at it then placed it into her bag. "Now I have two errands to run. Be good. I'll be back shortly."

"Starting up a crap-storm isn't a good idea, especially with some woman who wants to pretend she's able to play mobster. That makes her dangerous. I hope Aunt Nicky's fiancé doesn't get himself killed." Parker gazed out into the night sky, hands behind his back, and sighed.

Karla disappeared. Kuda stood up on Fox's shoulder, looked around, sniffed at the air, then settled back on Parker's shoulder, mirroring his sigh.

X

---

X

** The rain on the window** died down. The wind tapered off. Inspector Reno Nevada stood up from his sofa and clenched his hands together in frustration.

On the television, the meteorologist said, "And for those of you in the Bay Area, you're getting intermittent wind and scattered showers, but within the next few hours it will build in intensity until this low-pressure system passes through. The main storm cell should taper off a little after midnight, and, as you can see here on the Doppler, we'll be free and clear by sunrise. And that concludes tonight's forecast, with Traffic and Weather together on the quarter hour. And now we take you to over to Mitchel Wilson for a look at the streets!"

Reno zoned out, looking through the television as though it wasn't there. He turned about and meandered through his living room in a stupor. His mind raced and frustration built in his chest. Lightning flickered in the kitchen window across the way.

'I'm sorry; I thought you were one of the good guys, Reno. I thought you cared.' The scene continued to play over and over in his mind. The final words spoken between himself and Abby, the gypsy fugitive who was involved in that triple murder case in Golden Gate Park.

Fact of the matter? Reno Nevada wanted to help. He wanted to find the man in the black suit. He wanted to make him pay. Reno's knuckles turned white as his hands squeezed into tight fists. The frustration - the rage. He moved around the sofa and grabbed the lamp from the side table. It smashed into the apartment wall. Pieces of porcelain scattered across the wood floor.

'War is coming - we're all going to die.'

"What the hell did that mean anyway?" he murmured aloud. The sound of his voice startled him from his reverie.

His cellphone chirped and he pulled it from his front pocket. The message, from Wilfred Greg, read, "Now that you're on vacation, we should talk about your case!" The message ended with a goofy smiley face - his smartphone transposed the punctuation into an actual smiling face.

Reno stared at the screen for a moment, took a deep breath then exhaled slowly to calm himself. Nevada stood up and walked into the bathroom and tossed his phone into a pile of change in a jar atop of his hamper.

With a flick of his wrist, the sink faucet began pouring out cold water. He cupped his hands beneath the stream of water, gathering a small puddle within his palms. Nevada lowered his head and splashed the cool liquid over his face. He rested his hands on the edge of the sink then lifted his head.

Reno stared at the reflection in the mirror. Black strands hung down over his forehead, dripping with water. Several days' worth of stubble had built up on his face, forming a rough beard. He hadn't slept very well over the past week until last night.

He vaguely remembered the blonde chick and didn't even get her name. Nevada licked his lips, his glare returned to the mirror. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot to the point that he looked like a drug addict.

Dark circles had formed atop slightly swollen eyelids. "Damn, aren't you a sexy one." Truth be told, he felt pretty good, having slept all day long. Somehow, his blanket found its way to the living room, where he'd spent the whole afternoon.

'You're getting in the way, Nevada...'

Who in San Francisco had the kind of pull to get him suspended? Reno knew some of these cases probably tied together and whoever was behind it, they must have been involved somehow. His thoughts returned to the man in the black suit from his daydream in Golden Gate Park.

'I thought you were one of the good guys...'

Reno's cellphone buzzed loud from its resting place; it rattled the pile of change. It startled him and he reached for it. He ran his thumb from left to right over the glass and unlocked screen then he smirked at the message.

"Krys Monroe is at the Pages Lost until midnight. Don't forget to roll up your windows. Forecast is calling for a serious thunderstorm." He didn't remember putting Karla Howard's number into his list of contacts but he appreciated the information.

"So, 'Karla.' I'll have to remember that one." Reno simply typed, "Thx" in reply then pocketed his phone.

Reno opened his mirror and pulled out an electric razor. "Okay, let's get pretty. Today's the first day of the rest of your life, Reno Nevada. San Fran's logo is a Phoenix, right? Time to get my shit together and act reborn."

He retrieved two aspirin from behind the mirror then tossed them into his mouth. Fumbling with his shaver in one hand, he handled his toothbrush with the other.

The inspector glanced in the half-opened mirror and blinked, seeing a fresh suit hanging up on the backside of the bathroom door. A grin found the corner of his mouth then he shoveled everything back into the cabinet behind the mirror and turned on the shower.

Reno blinked, and turned around. It was the first time he noticed a bottle of body spray adjacent to the sink. "I don't remember putting that there." He reached for it and sniffed at it. "Huh. Not bad. Must'a been that chick from last night. She has good taste."

Fifteen minutes later, good as new - Reno emerged from the shower, brushed his hair, used the cologne, and then dressed to the nines. He went to his bedroom, fastened a holster harness then he opened his gun safe and removed the safety wedges from the trigger guard of both weapons.

Each Beretta was loaded with a full clip and slid into opposite holsters against the sides of his rib cage. A soft, brown leather blazer was pulled up each arm and over his shoulders, with his collar flipped down.

He stretched, causing the leather to creek. 'I'm coming for you, Krys Monroe.' Apparently she made her threats stick within twelve hours of issuing them. He had underestimated her abilities. Now it was time to show her that she underestimated him.

X

---

X

** Rain poured down from the heavens** , causing inch-deep puddles to form along the cracks and dips in the sidewalks. Lightening illuminated the sky, followed by the roar of thunder. It was the kind of noise that could be felt in a person's chest.

The large sign above the building told a story. 'Pages Lost' gleamed in contrast to the flashes of lightning that sprang like sparks from an anvil. The newest club in San Francisco; owned and operated by one Krys Monroe.

His golden seven point Inspector badge was flashed to the newly hired, and newly stationed doormen - instant access. He pushed through the mob of people trying to get inside. The metal detector sounded off. Again, he showed his badge; of course they didn't need to know that he was on suspension, which meant that this was illegal. A smile returned to Nevada's lips because for once in his life... he didn't care.

'Sometimes you've gotta bend a few rules...'

Reno folded his wallet and slid it into the back pocket of his dress slacks. A sweet little blonde thing walked by, running her hand down Reno's chest. A sly smile was offered, but then he snapped back to the mission at hand - finding the owner of the establishment, the barmaid from the other night.

His first destination was the bar. Reno grabbed a drunken kid who looked to be about seventeen years old and pulled him back from the stool. Arrest him for underage drinking? Reno couldn't even if he wanted to.

Instead, Reno took the stool as his own seat. His elbows pressed on the edge of the counter. When the kid tried to get back up onto an adjacent stool, Reno reached over and hit him in the chest, which caused the kid to flop unceremoniously on his ass. When the sexy little bar tender walked over to take Reno's order, he made his move.

"Where can I find Krys?"

"Who?" The woman shouted back, over the ambient bar noise.

Reno leaned forward and yelled louder. "WHERE... CAN I FIND... KRYS MONROE?!" Nevada lowered back down atop his stool.

The woman bit her lower lip and looked around. After a nervous pause, her right hand lifted and a lengthy, orange fingernail pointed in the appropriate direction.

The Inspector's head followed the trail and his dark brown eyes focused in on the corner table, on the opposite side of the room. It looked like Krys just sat down for a meal. Nevada stood up, straightened his jacket and smiled. It was 'go time'.

The seventeen year-old began to remount the stool, when Reno turned to face the far end of the room. He gave the kid another push, sending him tumbling to the floor. 'Stupid underage kids,' the inspector thought to himself. Reno cut through the dance floor, occasionally shoving people out of his way. He loved the feeling of having control. Cutting through a few morons always gave him back his cocky edge.

He stopped in front of her and put his hands on the backrest of the chair, facing the woman whose back was to the wall. Krys worked her fork around, gathering up a spool of spaghetti about the teeth of the utensil. She gracefully placed the pasta into her mouth and any lingering strings were quickly sucked through her lips.

"Well, look who the fuck it is. Krys Monroe. San Francisco's biggest snitch. I hear you're new to this whole club owner biz thing. So sorry I didn't get a chance to properly introduce myself to you the other night. I think it's time I make up for it, lady. Gee, you're not busy right now are ya?"

Krys' eyes rotated upwards and stared at Reno from over her plate. She took a moment to finish her food, swallowed, and followed with a quick sip of red wine. A napkin was used to wipe her hands, then her mouth. She finally acknowledged the Inspector with a half-nod.

"Reno Nevada. San Francisco's biggest pain-in-the-ass cop. To what do I owe the honor of this visit, which so happens to interrupt my dinner?"

'Oh, no she didn't...'

Nevada slid into the chair in front of Krys. His leather blazer was adjusted as it became bunched behind his back. The momentary shift of fabric purposefully allowed visual confirmation of dual Berettas, strapped against his chest.

Reno smiled as he came to rest in the chair, "Well, Krys, it looks like you've got your nose up so many government official's asses, I hear, that I figured I'd come over here and allow you the privilege of sharing the wealth." His hands lifted, one going for an empty glass, the other going for her bottle of wine. It was tipped sideways and the red liquid filled the glass about a third full. Krys narrowed her eyes at the nerve of the man who just grabbed for an eighty dollar bottle of wine without asking...

"Listen here, you fuckin' pig," she snarled softly. "You're lucky I don't break both yer knee caps and throw your ass in the back alley and let the crackheads run a train on ya'."

Reno, on the other hand, brought the wine underneath his nose and took in the sweet aroma. The glass was then placed to his lips and the entire contents swallowed in one quick gulp. He sat the glass down with an approving 'mmm' while his hand patted his stomach, playfully.

"That's some good, expensive shit you got there, Miss Monroe; I have to say I'm impressed concerning how fast you've adapted to the fake mafia routine. I understand you've been doing business stuff before the bar opened. In fact, I think you knew who burned down the BPI Complex last year. All I need is motive. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? After all, your only real competition burned down a year ago, and you only bought this place three months ago, not to mention how long it took to renovate. Okay then."

Reno judged her expressions, watching her face carefully as he continued to speak. "Anyway, all I_want to know is what _you know about those gypsy murders the other week. You mentioned it was a closed case before, and you're right. But we got off to a bad start last time. So, you tell me what I want to know and I _might_go my merry way up the food chain and forget about you." Reno's words were all it took. Krys appeared uncomfortable.

She pushed the meatballs and spaghetti away, while the towel from her lap was wadded up and tossed besides the plate.

Krys glanced to the left. "Not a goddamned thing."

"Bullshit," Reno replied. A lightning-phrase, as if shot from the quiver of infallible wisdom. "Don't lie to me." He leaned over the table, staring Monroe in the face.

He hated Krys Monroe. And in turn, Krys hated him. They were quickly developing a history together. Reno knew she was a killer, and he knew she had an interesting way of pulling it off; he just couldn't prove it, outright. 'Yet,' he mused to himself.

He eased up from his chair, as if to come off more intimidating. A smile started at the corner of his mouth then broadened, stretching across his lips. "You're going to tell me everything you know, or else I'll run in here with a couple teams of SWAT and tear it to shreds. I bet you'd hate to see your brand new shiny investment gutted, wouldn't you?"

A radiant look came over her face like a sudden burst of sunshine on a cloudy day. Krys broke into hefty laughter - one that lasted about ten-to-twelve seconds. During which, Reno lowered back down into his seat and watched the "Criminal Logistics Coordinator" carefully.

"You stupid pig. You're on suspension. You can't do shit." She continued to giggle with glee, reaching for her dinner plate once more.

That was all it took. Reno lifted up, and the entire table went along with him. Hands flipped it over, sending the plates, the glasses and the towel crashing to the floor. The loud music kept most of the clubbers from noticing it. Those who did moved towards the bar or the door.

Enraged, Reno grabbed Krys by the collar, lifting her to her feet. She went along with it, though, and didn't make any move to push Reno off of her. Yet.

"I know I'm suspended. I_know_ you're behind it. And now I'm going to expose you." He shouted into her face.

A shadow of melancholy touched her lithe fancies. "Expose what, Mister Nevada?" A moue of disgust crept across her visage.

"Your work with Aris Falcon," he replied. He watched her expression.

A sudden sense of fear ran through her nerves like the chill of an icy wind. The gleam in her gaze faded away. Anxiety hung over her like a dark impenetrable cloud. He smiled and watched as the woman licked her lips in apprehension.

Reno released the collar of her blouse. "Alright, then. I have your attention. Good."

She fidgeted then took a slow deep breath and gave a tug at her blouse to free it of wrinkles. "You win, Nevada. I now realize that you're sharper than I gave you credit for. You've practically solved it all by yourself. My sister is the only person I trust with the knowledge of knowing Aris Falcon and I know you've never met her... so... The fact you know who he is and the fact you're keenly aware of my involvement with him is disconcerting."

"Girl, you're about as dumb as a fish, I swear. Drop the act. I want the truth right now." An unopened beer bottled came slamming into the back of Reno's head. The Inspector crumbled to the floor in a state of semi-consciousness. Blood dribbled from the back of his head, staining his collar.

Krys stood above Reno, casually wiping the front of her business suit off, as if Reno somehow dirtied it by touching her earlier.

The goon handed the bottle to Krys. The label on the side was marred but, unlike a Hollywood prop, the bottle was still intact.

Her gaze lifted to the man that stood behind Reno's slumped body. "Take'em up to the roof and deal with him, George." Three of Krys' lackies grabbed Reno by his wrists. They hoisted him up pulling his arms around their necks. His feet dragged the fancy floor, while the third man led the group up the steps to the top of the building.

The door flung open and the three men pulled Reno out onto the gravel-covered roof. Everyone's clothing was quickly saturated with water from the hard rain that poured down from the heavens.

"Let's get this over wit'... get th' hell outta this rain," one of them grumbled. The man in charge pulled out a revolver and aimed it down at Reno's head.

The inspector groaned softly, reawakened by the rain, and began to show signs of life. They let him go; Nevada went face down onto the gritty rooftop. Reno got up on his hands and knees; blood rolled down his neck and tinted the pools of rain water that gathered around him.

"Time to die, Pig."

Suddenly, the Inspector swung a hand upwards, knocking the gun free. It skipped off the ledge and landed down in the alley below.

"SON of a BITCH! My _mother_gave me that piece!" the man exclaimed. The unarmed gunman lifted his boot. "I'm going to stomp your guts out!" He brought his foot down.

Reno brought his hands to either side of the man's foot then he lifted hard. The man fell on his back with a splash. Nevada stood up, just in time to sidestep a fist as it sailed past his face. Adrenaline kicked in.

The inspector grabbed the other attacker and used his shoulder as leverage, flipping the man over with a grunt. He followed through the slam, dropping to all fours. While crouched, Reno kicked his left leg backwards, into the gut of the third goon, causing that one to double over.

Reno stood back up and grabbed a hold of the third attacker's hair. He brought his right knee up into the thug's face. Reno turned about and threw him head first, into the first man, who was only just getting back to his own feet. Both collapsed in a splash of water.

The Inspector turned, just in time for a steel wrench to slam into his face. Blood gushed from his nose. It left a salty, metallic taste in his mouth; Reno spit out a broken chip from one of his front teeth.

With a groan, Nevada wavered to the left, dazed from the attack. His eyes zeroed in on a mess of tools scattered about in front of the massive silver box, which was mounted on the corner of the roof. The gravel-topped roof rushed up to meet him.

The attacker dropped the wrench and folded his arms, watching as Reno rolled around on the ground, with his hands covering his face. One of them called out, "Let's finish this!"

Seconds later, all three men were driving the heels of their boots into Reno's body. Ribs splintered and broke, organs bruised.

But Reno continued to fight on. If only he could get at his guns. He tried pushing himself up against the onslaught of kicks. His right hand moved into the gravel for stability, forcing himself onto his knees. One of the men leapt into the air and came down upon Nevada's hand, dislocating two of the fingers and breaking another.

The first man bent at the hip and picked up the monkey wrench from the gravel with a delightfully cheery smile. "Stand back boys, I wanna see what his brains look like."

The other two stood back from the mess of blood and broken bones that used to a San Francisco Inspector.

The man brought the wrench high above his head and waited. "C'mon, pig. Look up at me. I wanna look in your eyes before I kill you." He leered with a devious smirk but Reno didn't look up. "I SAID LOOK AT ME! This is PERSONAL now!" Suddenly the hair on his head, arms and neck stood on end. A flash of light filled the sky, followed by intense heat.

The one holding the wrench flew ten feet back. He hit the rooftop in time with a crack of deafening thunder. Out of the two remaining henchmen, one was also laying on the roof, rubbing at his eyes furiously. The suddenly flash of light had blurred his vision and even worse, the heat had burned the hair from his face and head.

The remaining attacker grabbed a fiber cable from below his feet, which was part of a spool that ran back towards the large metal box on the roof.

Reno groaned in pain and eased up onto his knees. He slowly pushed his body from the gravel with his left hand buried in the pebbles. That's when the cord was wrapped about his throat, from behind. Nevada clawed at it with his good hand. His mouth gaped open, trying to suck in air.

The attacker used the cord to pull Reno to his feet and began spinning him around. Reno stumbled a bit, swung around by his throat. The whirling world resembled a twisted merry-go-round.

Strangely, the thug let go, hands flailing. "What the fuck was that?! I just saw a face in the rain!" He backed up a bit, waving his hands again as though shooing an invisible spirit.

Reno tumbled forward, unaware of his direction. The dizzy officer turned his head to the left and threw up, down the front of his shirt then stumbled. Reno lifted his hands and held them outwards to break his fall.

He dropped into the open metal chest of the large metal box. Some sort of air conditioning unit or maybe a rooftop mounted transformer - he couldn't be sure and it didn't really matter at this point.

Reno's muscles contracted together as sparks flew out all about him. Nevada ground his molars together as the current filtered into his body from the conductive rain.

In that brief instant, with Reno touching the rooftop unit with the cracks on each side of its base, he had a vision. The Inspector could clearly see the face of Eric. Loupe struck the metal box with some sort of shadows some time ago. The man used that dark splotch to bowl over a group of men before getting himself thrown from the rooftop.

And in all that time, the electricity was never cut off to that box, and the unit was never fixed. In a winded voice, Reno groaned aloud. "Bullshit."

The vision faded away, replaced by pain from the power fed into his rain-soaked body. Both his Berettas went off, simultaneously, with the safety on, the bullets exploded in the magazine and chamber, shattering the metal until splinters of shrapnel rinded the flesh of his chest.

Hair burnt down to the scalp and his fingernails melted off. Reno's skin began to bake. A current of electricity formed. Without warning, the entire metal box linked up to the Heavens as a second stream of white-hot lightening reached from the roof up into the blackened clouds.

The power surge darkened a twenty block grid. The charred remains of Reno Nevada flung back from the metal unit, landing at the feet of the only henchmen still standing. George stared down at the crispy body. He turned away and vomited over the edge of the building.

After a series of dry heaves, George turned back around. He wiped the leftover puke from his lower lip, struggling to get his wits about himself.

He grabbed one of the baked limbs and dragged Reno's charred remains across the gravel-covered rooftop. Once the ledge was reached, he lifted the body up and onto the ledge.

He leaned to the left and eyed an industrial sized dumpster, where Monroe's bodies were usually disposed of. "Guess what, pig... it's time to cross the river Styx. That's right. The morning truck comes and takes you out to the bay for dumping. I ain't got no money for the ferryman, pal. Why don'tcha try showing him your badge, buddy? Maybe he'll still let'cha cross. Tell him George Zukis sent you."

The man gave Reno's body a shove. Gravity took over. Thirty feet later, the body slammed into the garbage filled dumpster, quickly sinking through a few layers of rotten food and trash. The man turned around and sat down on the ledge. He grimaced then pushed his rain-soaked hair from his face.

"I'm gonna tell tha' Monroe chick, I deserves a fuckin' raise after that shit." He glanced over at the two bodies of his coworkers and sighed. "Damn, now I gotta dump them two, too." He glanced down at his wristwatch and tapped it with his finger. The hands were frozen at eleven fifty-five and the date was frozen at 'November 28th.'

"Dammit. My watch stopped working. My mother gave me that watch." He leaned over the side and saw his gun lying in a puddle in the alley. George sighed again, in frustration. "Sayonara, Nevada."

END OF ACT 1

---

THANKS FOR READING!

Act 2, Book1 can be found here: https://www.sofurry.com/view/581433